The Jameson Chronicles
by MrBenzedrine
Summary: Spin-off mini-series to How To Train Your Auror 2! (Features original character, Theodore Jameson) - Everyone has fallen in love with this adorable man, but who was Theodore Jameson before he became an Auror? Find out the mystery behind everyone's favorite Auror, along with his connection to Lindy Bolt. 5 part series, following Theodore through life-altering moments.
1. The Bridge

**Hello, everyone! If you follow my Dramione series, How To Train Your Auror, this will be a fun side story about the lovable Theodore Jameson from HTTYA2: Family Ties. If you haven't read my series, this might be a bit out of left field, but still a fun read, none the less. Originally, this story was going to be a one-shot involving Theodore's past, but waymay and I agreed that splitting it into 5 parts would be the best option. So, without further ado, I present to you: The Jameson Chronicles.**

 **Rated M for later chapters.**

 **Thank you waymay for the edits and love of Theodore! One day, Theodore might make it into his own original book. I hope so. He deserves it.**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Bridge**

* * *

 **"Miss Believer" by Twenty One Pilots**

"Theodore, dear. Pass the jam, would you?"

Theodore Jameson reaches across the table, extending his slender arm over the buttered rolls and cranberry sauce. He snatches up the jar of jam, reels it back to his chest, and passes it to his mother, who smiles fondly.

"Thank you."

"Sure." Theodore bounces in his chair, peering out the window. The first hints of snow flitter in the air in puffs of snowflakes that beat against the window. It takes everything within the five-and-a-half-year-old not to bound out the front door right now and catch snowflakes on his tongue.

"Mommy?" he asks.

"Yes, dear?"

"Are we gonna stay this time?"

His mother presses her lips together, thinking how best to address her son. She reaches over, wraps an arm around his shoulders and whispers, "Theodore, you know your father works very hard to provide for us. We go where he's needed."

"I know." He wiggles in his chair, anxious to leave. He won't realize until he's much older just how vexed he is at his mother's words. Right now, he thinks it's due to the want to be in the snow. It's easier, this way. Adult problems can wait. Snow comes first. "I'm full."

"Eat a bit more."

"I'm _full_."

"The boy says he's full, Margaret," A soothing, masculine voice sounds from the doorway. Theodore smiles warmly at his father, who rubs his tired eyes and gives a warm grin. His auburn hair is particularly disheveled this morning, and he wraps his bathrobe tighter around himself as he approaches the table and kisses his wife on the cheek. "Can't you see he wants to go play?"

"I can see he hasn't touched his food."

"I'm _full_ ," Theodore insists once more.

"So you are."

"Samuel. The boy needs to eat."

"Margaret," Samuel teases in the same tone, "The boy needs to play."

"Play!" Theodore giggles, throwing his hands in the air.

Margaret sighs, placing her fork down on her plate. "Oh, alright. But, for Heaven's sake, put on a coat! And gloves! And a hat! And-"

"-And a mustache and a broach and a tea kettle!"

Theodore sniggers at his father's words and slides off his chair. "And a cow!"

"A cow?"

"Cow! Cow!"

"Theodore, go grab your coat from the hallway."

"Okay, Mommy!"

The boy runs out of the room, his shoes clacking against the tile floor. He returns shortly with his coat, a hat, gloves, and a plastic cow tucked under his arm. "I brought a cow!"

"So you did." Samuel retrieves his own coat from the coatrack and bundles himself in it. "Let's go, Theo."

"Samuel, put on some decent clothes."

"We're only walking down the path a little," Samuel replies, "Not enough for anyone to see us. We're out in the middle of nowhere. Relax."

Margaret purses her lips, but she doesn't argue with her husband.

"Cow ready to go!" Theodore giggles, reaching up to his father's hand to grasp it tight. He tugs the adult out the door, ready for his first real winter. What will the snow be like, he wonders? Will it be soft? Firm? Will it be wet or dry? As soon as he's off the front porch, he releases his father's hand and bounds down the gravel driveway. _Crunch. Crunch_. The white powder beneath his feet scrunches under his boots. "Daddy, look! Snow!"

"Snow," Samuel agrees. He looks down at his house slippers and laughs to himself. "I seem to have forgotten my outside shoes."

"Do the thingy!"

"What thingy?"

"The magic thingy."

"Theodore, we've been over this. Outside of the home, we don't use our magic."

"Pleaaaaaase." The child bounces up and down. "Just the once!"

With a roll of his eyes, Samuel looks behind him, to the front door, and then turns back to Theodore. "Alright. Best not to tell your mother, yes?" He reaches beneath his coat and robes, retrieving a thick, lengthy strip of wood. In a flurry of designs, he points the wand to his house slippers and transfigures them into a pair of rubber snow shoes. His son cheers with glee, and Samuel brings a careful finger to his lips, reminding him it's a secret. Theodore nods enthusiastically as his father waves his wand once more and hovers a ball of snow into the air. "Today, Theo, we're going to have a snowball fight."

The child watches in wonder as the snowball floats through the air, slowly, before it lands softly on his head, crumbling into a cold, impotent pile of snow. Theodore shrieks from the cold, and he scoops down, pressing the snow at his feet into a snowball of its own. The snowball flies through the air and hits his father square in the face.

"Oof!"

"Haha!"

"Good aim, Theodore. Impressive." Samuel rubs the snow off his nose. "But can you handle this?" And with that, the wizard raises his wand arm and sends an arsenal of snowballs in his son's direction. Theodore's eyes go wide, laughing wildly as he tears off in the opposite direction. Snowballs pelt the ground beside him, and occasionally one gets him in the leg or the shoulder. Everything is fun and games until he rushes past the gate at the edge of the front yard. When he turns around, he no longer sees the cottage his family has moved into just three short weeks ago. He only sees a baron scrap of field covered in a blanket of fresh snow.

"Daddy?" He runs toward the gate, only to feel a strange sensation in his chest as he approaches. He stalls his movements a yard from the gate, and a feeling of dread washes over him. What is this? He's been told never to go past the gate without his family, but he never thought his home would _disappear_. Panic shoots down his spine, and tears well up in his eyes immediately. He tries to move toward the gate again, but the nagging sense of foreboding grips his nerves, and he no longer can move. Instead, he backs up a few paces and sniffles. "Mommy. Daddy…"

A pretty little wisp of light appears out of the corner of his eye. Theodore turns his head, but the light disappears as quickly as it appeared.

"Hello?"

A small 'ooooh' rings through his ears -no, not through his ears. Inside his mind. Theodore, startled, spins around, and that's when he sees it: another colorful light, this time with a hint of blue at the edge of the gravel path. It burns bright before fading into nothing and reappearing further down the path. The same, bleeding 'ooooh' echoes in the forefront of his mind, beckoning him.

"What are you?"

'Ooooh.' Somehow, he knows what the sound means. _Follow me_.

"Why?"

'Oooh.' _Parents_.

"You know where they are?"

'Oooh.' _Yes_.

The light wilts and appears further down the path, yet again. Theodore takes a step toward it. "Wait! Show me."

'Oooh.'

His feet stumble as he races toward the burning light. Again and again it disappears and shows up, taking him deep into the woods along the trail. The sun is blocked by the trees overhead, and the temperature drops as he travels further. The minutes drag on, and the wisps of light grow further apart from one another. The wind picks up, but how there could be any wind in such a tree infested surrounding is beyond the boy's comprehension. He only follows the wisp, determined to see himself home again.

A clearing appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and a bridge can be seen far off. The small river beneath it is frozen solid, and the brightest light appears just beneath the bridge. Theodore scrambles, taking off at a dead run to keep up, but when he makes it to the edge of the river, he stops.

'Oooh!' _Come_!

"What if it breaks and I fall in?" he asks.

The light burns bright, but it doesn't give any heat. The ice beneath it stays firm. A pulse wave grows from the light, much the way his father's Bowtruckle Patronus does when dancing on the table. It's captivating as it forms a familiar shape, including hair, eyes, and a full woman's figure. She smiles at him softly, her corporal body translucent beneath the bridge.

"Wow…" Theodore tilts his head. "You're so pretty."

 _Join me_.

He looks around the edge of the river nervously. "I want my Daddy and Mommy."

 _Come here, child. I will show you the way._

"But we've gone further out, not closer."

 _Trust me, Theodore. I shall do you no harm._

Taken in by the light's beauty, he moves to take a step onto the frozen water.

"Stop!" someone shrieks above him, at the top of the bridge. "What are you doing, you dummy?"

Theodore frowns, dropping his foot to the ground. "Who are you calling a dummy, you dummy?"

"You! Dummy." It's a little girl who hovers at the edge of the bridge's guardrails, wrapped tightly in a flowing robes ensemble with matching red and green gloves and hat. She sticks her tongue out at him and waves him up. "Get away from the water!"

"She says she's gonna help me find my parents," he explains, pointing beneath the bridge.

"Who?"

"The woman made of light."

The girl's eyes go wide, and she shakes her head. "Is she there? Now?"

"Yes." Theodore stares at the glowing woman and points. "She's right there."

"You're a bigger dummy than I thought!" the girl shouts at once. " _My_ father says never trust a will-o'-the-wisp."

"A what?"

The girl sighs, pushes off the railing, and disappears from sight. Moments later, she walks down the path to stand next to Theodore, her hands tucked inside her robes. "You got a name, dummy?"

"I'm Theodore." He glances down at the girl's boots, sniggering. "What are _those_?"

"What?"

"On your shoes!"

"Whales," she replies indignantly. "I like whales. They're cool."

"They're silly."

"You're silly."

Theodore shrugs, turning back to the spot under the bridge. "She's gone!"

"Duh." The girl kicks her boots into the snow, shuffling some onto his covered feet. "I'm Lindy." She thrusts her hand out. When he doesn't take it, she asks, "What?"

"I'm… not s'posed to talk to strangers."

"Too late," she grabs up his hand anyway and shakes it firmly. "See? Now we're not strangers."

"Can you help me find my Daddy?"

"Sure. Where is he?"

"I don't know," he scowls. "If I did, I'd be with him."

"Where do you live?"

"That way," he points back the way he came. "But…" His voice grows quiet. "I'm not s'posed to tell 'nyone."

"Why?"

"...It's a secret."

"I'm good with secrets!" Lindy exclaims. "Like, really good. My uncle told me not to tell his secret, and I kept it really good."

"What was the secret?"

"I can't tell you."

"Wow, you're good with secrets."

"I know," she beams with pride. "Come on, I'll help you find your Daddy."

"Thanks."

He follows the girl back up the path, back the way he came. His thoughts fall on the woman made of light, and he can't help but ask, "What's a willow-de-wisk?"

"Will-o'-the-wisp," she corrects. She, then, pauses and turns her head toward him. "Are you a muggle?"

"A what?"

"A muggle."

"What's a muggle?"

"Someone with no magic."

"Oh!" Theodore becomes excited. "My father has that!"

"Magic?"

"Yeah! With a wand and everything!"

"Cool! Mine too! What about your Mum?"

"Yeah. Yours?"

"Yeah."

"Coooooool." Lindy giggles. "How come you didn't know what a muggle was, then?"

"We call them no-majs."

"That's silly."

"Your boots are silly."

"Where are you from?"

"California."

"Where is that?"

"America."

"You're from _America_?"

"I was born there," Theodore says proudly. "But my parents were born here."

"Crazy."

"I've never seen the snow before."

"Never?"

"Never, ever."

"Have you ever caught a snowflake on your tongue?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Let's try it!"

Lindy stops in the middle of the gravel road and throws her hands out like a cross while sticking out her tongue. "DO Eh!"

Theodore shrugs, throws his hands out as well, and sticks out his tongue. They stare up at the sky, waiting for the snowflakes to arrive. After several moments, Lindy sighs, giving up. "When it snows more, you have t'do it."

"Okay."

"Theodore!"

The children turn to the edge of the woods, where Samuel emerges, carrying Theodore's plastic cow.

"Daddy!"

"Theo!"

The frightened father takes off at a run and scoops his son up in his arms, kissing him on the head.

"Daddy! You're 'barrisen me…"

It's then adult notices the other small child lingering on the path. "Oh." He sets his son down carefully. "Hello there."

"Hi!" Lindy waves her arms. "I'm Lindy!"

"Lindy's my friend," Theodore explains. "She saved me from a wilt-a-wisp."

"A Will-o'-the-wisp? In these woods?" Samuel furrows his brows, turning to Lindy. "You have my thanks."

"Sure."

"Lindy, do your parents know you're out here?"

"Yeah. I'm out here all the time."

"I would offer to walk you back to your parents, but…" Samuel sighs.

"It's okay, Daddy. Lindy's good at secrets."

Samuel raises an eyebrow. "Are you?"

Lindy nods. "Super duper."

The man crouches down to her level and boops her on the nose with his finger. "So you are. Can you please keep us a secret, Lindy? You mustn't tell a soul about us."

"Why not?"

"Because… we help people who are sick. But the work we do is very special." Samuel smiles fondly. "And if anyone found out about our special work, they might try to hurt us. Hurt Theodore."

"Nobody's gonna hurt Theodore," Lindy shakes her head. "He's my best friend."

"Is he?"

"Yes."

"Then you promise to keep us a secret?"

"I promise."

"Thank you, Lindy." Samuel removes his wand from his robes and says, " _Expecto Patronum_!" An illuminating figure of a bowtruckle expels from his wand and hovers in front of the tiny girl. "I call him Thatcher. He'll walk you home."

"Thanks!" Lindy grins ear to ear, then hugs Theodore. "Wanna play again sometime?"

"I don't think Theodore can do that, Lindy. He wasn't supposed to be out this far."

Theodore pouts his lower lip, but puts on a brave face for Lindy. He doesn't want her to worry. "Maybe." It's what he's been taught to say when he knows he can't see someone again. But Lindy doesn't know it, and so she kisses his cheek and begins to follow the bowtruckle patronus down the opposite end of the path, towards the bridge.

"Bye, Theodore!"

He waves her off. "Bye, Lindy!"

Samuel puts a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, guiding him in the opposite direction. He offers out Theodore's plastic cow, and the boy takes it.

"Are we gonna have to leave again?" he asks sadly.

Samuel gives a small sigh, patting his son's back. "We'll see, Theo." As his son hangs his head, he adds, "Maybe we can try to stay. We'll just need to make the wards thicker this time."

A hope gleams in Theodore's eyes, and he turns his head to watch Lindy disappear over the arch of the bridge. "Okay, Daddy. I hope so."

* * *

 **Adorable, right? Hope to hear back from all of you! Shall update soon. :3**  
 **~A.**


	2. The Box

****Special thank you to LightofEvolution for proofing this chapter for me.****

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Box**

* * *

 **"The One Moment" by Okay Go**

* * *

There's a cool breeze in the East, signaling a change in the times. Theodore doesn't know it yet, but today will mark a turning day in his life. Thinking it like any typical day, the spritely nine-year-old bounds out of bed, glancing out his bedroom window. The streets below bustle with London's traffic. Horns blare, and sirens flare. Several onlookers stare upwards at the grand cathedral; unaware Theodore smiles down at them. The wards around the facility glamour the windows to appear boarded up. It's easier this way, his parents say. The fewer people come asking questions, the better.

With a taut stretch and a gentle yawn, Theodore scuttles into his house slippers and rubs his tired eyes. He spent half the night studying his mother's medical journals -something to keep him preoccupied between school work. Homeschooling feels tedious. He wants to be down on the streets with the other children, hurried on his way to school like any average kid. His parents work is important, he reminds himself. He shouldn't be so selfish.

He shuffles his way to the door and meets Horas, the family kneazle. The orange fuzzball peers through yellow slits as it uncurls itself from the floor and gives a hearty meow to greet his owner. Theodore reaches down, rubs the cat behind the ears, and says, "Hey, Horas. Mum and Dad around?" His accent is thicker -there's hardly a trace of his American drawl left. Two years in London has rubbed off on him. He's grown accustomed to the local slangs and colloquialisms, and even the tea. He hopes this will, finally, be the place they can lay down roots and call home for good.

Theodore doesn't like to get his hopes up, though. The only reason they've stayed this long is because of a patient under his father's care: a little girl, the same age as Theodore. His father says they're so very close to a cure for her condition, and his mother agrees. Theodore's looked over the medical records when his parents left the room; the magic seems well enough, but they're missing an essential ingredient in the treatment. Something nomaj, perhaps.

Padding his way down the staircase, he meets the yummy smell of cooked sausage, buttered toast, and fried tomatoes.

"Smells good," he says, greeting the warm sight of his mother hovered over a stove, her hair in curlers and a piece of toast dangling between her teeth. The table is set to the nines, which can only mean his family has news. It's the only reason a table gets set with the fine silverware and plates. He takes a chair at the end of the table, gestures to the food, and rubs his stomach theatrically. "Looks fantastic, mother. What will you be having?"

"Hysterical, Theo," his mother rolls her eyes, setting her toast on the counter next to her. "You better not eat it all."

"Don't put it past me. I'm starving."

"Good. A growing lad needs his strength if he's starting his first day of school."

Halfway between reaching for some sausage links, Theodore pauses. "What?"

"Odd. I didn't know you were hard of hearing."

"I'm not." He straightens his back against the splat of the chair. "I'm going to school? Like… a real school? With a classroom? And a cafeteria?" Nervousness blooms inside of him, along with excitement. "Truly?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Never you mind that." His mother grins. "Eat up. You have a big day ahead of you."

Theodore's heart races as he begins to fill his plate to the brim, though his appetite dwindles as his mind races with questions. "Will there be nomajs?"

"They call them muggles here."

"Will there be?"

"I imagine so. It's a muggle school."

A small piece of Theodore's excitement deflates until his mother adds,

"-Hogwarts letters don't come until you're eleven, Theodore. You know that."

"Yeah." He nods. "But what if I accidently do something I can't explain?"

"We'll handle it. Magical children have attended muggle schools for centuries before their academic years. It's important to understand _how_ the world works. Not everything can be solved with magic."

"I know." His parents are a shining beacon of that example. They've saved countless lives with their unique practices of medicine. And right now, the world needs them more than ever. Particularly with the Second War in full swing.

"Are you alright, Theo?"

He pushes his plate away, appetite lost. "Yeah. I'm going to go change." He then pauses. "I don't know what to wear."

"Not to worry. School uniform is in the hallway closet."

"And books?"

"Already taken care of."

"Mum…"

"Hmm?"

"… Are you sure this is alright?"

Theodore's mother places down her spatula, and her face falls into an understanding expression. "Your father and I have a great system working right now. You'll be known as Theodore Ragland for a moment, but other than that…" Her voice trailed off. "I think we can make this work, sweetheart. I really do."

Theodore doesn't want to get his hopes up, but his mother's words ring true. Or, at least, he feels they have.

The doorbell rings.

"Oh. There's one more surprise at the door. Theodore, why don't you go see to it, hmm?"

Anxiousness fills his core as he scoots out of his chair and takes off down the hallway. Christmas certainly came early this year. At least, that's what he thinks as he pries open the front door, revealing a small, cute girl with sky blue eyes and straight, blonde hair that falls past her shoulders. She's taller, now, and skinnier than what he remembers, but… "Lindy?"

"Theodore!" Lindy leaps forward and into Theodore's arms, nearly strangling him from the sizeable hug as she wraps her slender arms around his neck. His face is attacked with dry, peckish kisses all over his cheeks as if she's trying to kiss away each freckle that resides on his face. Theodore blushes crimson but doesn't move. He's far too happy to start off the two years they've been apart by shoving his friend away. So, he takes the kissable attack with his father's stoic expression. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" Kiss. "Did you miss me?" Another kiss. "Well, of course you missed me!"

"What are you doing here?" he blurts out, a bit harsher than meant. He's only so surprised by this new development, and still suffering from the shock of being promised school for the first time.

Lindy peels herself off of him and looks down to the bottom of the steps, where a couple stands hand-in-hand. "You never met my parents, did you?"

"No, I don't think-"

Theodore is grabbed firmly by the hand, still in his slippers and pyjamas, and is yanked down the front steps out past the glamours to the busy London streets. His ears turn bright crimson as a group of girls snigger while walking by, pointing at his attire.

"Theodore, meet my mum, Ethel, and my dad, Bernard."

"Bolt," says Bernard, thrusting a hand out for Theodore to take. He wears eyes the color of chocolate, with the same warming effect as the sweet. His hair is the color of faded parchment. "Nice to meet you, Theo."

"Theodore," the boy corrects, taking the man's hand. He tries his best to give a firm handshake, the way his father has taught him.

"Are you going to school dressed in your jammies, Theodore?" asks Ethel, leaning down to square the boy eye-to-eye. She wears deep blue eyeliner that sets off her eyes, only a few shades darker blue than Lindy's.

"I'll… um… be right back." He races up the stairs, turning just before he makes it to the door to assure himself sure they're real. All of them. The door handle turns in his hand, but not by his own accord, and he finds his mother smiling idly from the other side, a hand on her cheek.

"Well?" she asks, happy tears in her eyes.

There are no words to describe the overwhelming gratefulness he feels. Eagerly, he leaps into his mother's arms and clings tight. "I thought we were supposed to lay low."

Margaret Jameson crouches down to her son's height and wipes at her tears. "As it happens, we Jamesons aren't the only ones with secrets. The Bolts will keep ours, as we will keep theirs."

"What's their secret?"

"Now, if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore, would it?" His mother kisses him on the forehead. "Run along. Don't want to be late."

* * *

"This tie is too tight," Theodore mutters in the carpool on the way to school. "And these slacks are too long. Could we crack a window? It's rather stuffy."

"Nervous?" Lindy grins ear to ear, sitting next to her best friend.

"A little," he admits sheepishly.

"Don't be. I've been going here for six months now and love it."

"You've been in London for six months?" Theodore straightens his posture, slightly saddened by the revelation. "And we're only now seeing each other again?"

"To be fair, I didn't know you'd moved into the city," Lindy points out, plucking an apple from her bookbag. Her mother leans over the car console and shakes her head.

"That's for a snack, dear."

"What if I feel like snacking now?"

"Then you'll be hungry when real snack time rolls around."

Lindy shrugs and takes a bite anyway. Then she offers her apple out to Theodore. "Want some?"

"Sure." He takes a bite, staring out the window at the passing cabs and trolleys. "What's it like?"

"What?"

"School."

"Boring. But I have a few good friends, so it more than makes up for it." She pats his head like a puppy. "And now I've my very best friend to top it all off!"

Theodore squints his eyes, confused. Yes, he and Lindy have been friends, but _best_ friends? He isn't sure he could call himself that. He doesn't know Lindy's favorite food or her favorite color. He doesn't know if she prefers pumpkin juice over cola, or if she made her bed in the mornings. How could one be best friends with someone and not know these things? And he _swears_ she had red hair the last time he saw her… not blonde… maybe it's lightened?

Mentally, he makes a note. He'd figure all these things out, and then some. _Then_ he could call her his very best friend.

* * *

Theodore has never been more terrified as when the teacher calls his name for the first time. Roll call, he'll learn, is just another aspect of the educational life, but he's never been a part of something so uniformed before, and his voice squeaks as he bolts upright out of his chair, gives a formal bow, and says, "Present!"

A couple of the children around him snigger. Most don't hide the amused grins on their faces. _Why couldn't Lindy be in the same class as mine?_ They were relatively the same age, but Theodore's birthday came nine months before Lindy's, putting him in Year Five Junior school and Lindy in Year Four.

"Thank you, Mister Ragland." The teacher peers over her spectacles. "In the future, a simple raise of the hand will suffice."

"Yes, Ma'am." He takes his chair, ears burning so hot he's sure they're on fire. Uh oh. He didn't accidentally set his ears on fire, did he? Quickly, he reaches up and checks to find his ears very much intact. He gives a silent breath of relief and pulls out his pencil bag.

School. He's actually in school. Oh, how joyous the occasion is for the young boy. He removes his pens and pencils, arranging them in color coated rows at the top corner of his desk.

"Look at the weirdo," sneers a boy directly behind Theodore.

"Definitely all sixes and sevens," chides another.

The words hurt, but they're just that. Words. Theodore knows to improve his life he must cast out the negative. So, he ignores the taunts and begins scribbling down everything the teacher says.

* * *

"How was class?"

Lindy sits on the edge of the table in the courtyard at recess nibbling on Theodore's crust from his half-eaten sandwich. He pours himself over a thick textbook about mathematics, thoroughly entranced. Young Theodore doesn't hear Lindy, and only realizes she's said something when she kicks him in the knee, startling him.

"Hmm?"

"Class. Did you like it?"

"I enjoyed the subjects," he answers, pulling a bookmark from his bag and marking his page before slamming it shut. "The kids… not so much."

"Ignore them. You have Sammy and Turner in your class, right? They're both wankers."

"You know them?"

"I see them on the playground from time to time. Bullies, the lot of them."

Theodore cracks a smile, turning his full attention on Lindy. "I wish _you_ were there. Would make class a lot easier."

"Well, I am. In spirit." She rummages through her bag and produces a small pack of note cards. "Pre-spelled two-way note cards 'Note Your Grandmother's Notecards.' If you're ever feeling lonely in class, write me."

"Where'd you get these?" he asks, amazed.

"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley," Lindy replies proudly. "Mum bought me a pack so I could write her if I felt lonely at the beginning of the term. Little does she know, I don't mind being away from home."

"I remember," Theodore says thoughtfully, slipping the note cards in his bag. "There wasn't a time where you weren't running off when we were kids."

"We're still kids, silly."

"Sure." Theodore sets his head in his hand, staring off at the playground. Maybe it's from years of being home schooled, but he feels different from the other children here. Even Lindy. She's so bubbly and full of life, and he… he feels numb. Detached. He doesn't understand the nomaj customs any more than he understands the wizarding ones. For instance, what were the small boxes the other children carried around, speaking into on their lunch breaks? "Thanks, Lindy."

"Anytime, Theodore."

* * *

Theodore continues to excel in school. Though, he hasn't made many friends. It's difficult to when he can never submerse himself in normal conversations. The two bullies Lindy mentioned, Sammy and Turner, attempt to make his life a living Azkaban experience on a daily basis. Theodore doesn't take it personally. It isn't as if he's the only one bullied in his class. There's one boy who is picked on continuously as well: a skinny little boy named Roger with dark brown hair and freckles on his nose like Theodore. When Sammy and Turner aren't slipping fish into Theodore's desk or shoving his face into the water fountain when he goes for a drink, they're pantsing Roger in the halls and sticking their gum all over his locker. The teachers seem to look the other way every time, so nothing ever gets done.

"We should get them back somehow," Lindy says to Theodore one day out in the courtyard after school.

"We could tell a teacher," he suggests, attempting to clean his school sweater with water and a pack of tissues from where Turner dumped ketchup on him earlier today.

"Fat lot of good that would do," she grumbles, ripping the tissues from his hands. "Here, let me give it a try." She begins to scrub in gentle circles along his breastbone. "I can't wait until we're old enough to do magic. Then we could give them a little lesson."

"Maybe we should try getting to know them? Maybe they're not all as bad as they seem."

"Careful, Theodore. You're beginning to sound like a Hufflepuff."

"I don't see anything wrong with being a Hufflepuff," Theodore replies, "They value hard work, patience, loyalty…"

"Yes, yes. We get it. You've read Hogwarts, A History." Lindy cracks a smile. "I don't mean we would do them any harm. But maybe a simple Bat Boogey Hex just to even the playing field?" She gives him a playful wink. "Anyway, we better be heading off soon, or we'll miss the bus back home."

While it's true Lindy's parents carpool the two together in the mornings, in the afternoon, her parents work. So, the children are given annual bus passes and their parents' trust to make it home. This is the greatest stretch of time his parents have ever allotted him away from them, and he savors it. Truly, the bus ride home might be his favorite part of the day.

"Alright," he nods. "Let's get going."

He's just slinging his bag over his shoulder when he notices, out of the corner of his eye, Roger slammed up against the side of the school building by Sammy. Turner stands behind him, cracking his knuckles and laughing like a buffoon.

"Theodore-" Lindy starts, reaching for his arm, but he shrugs her off of him and begins the treacherous walk over across the school yard, finally fed up. The two bullies don't seem to notice.

"Hey there, Todger," taunts Sammy, holding Roger by the scruff of his collar.

"It's _Roger_ ," the other boy snaps, though there is fear in his eyes. Blood already drips from his nose, and he has scrapes on his palms from being pushed down.

" _I_ say it's Todger."

"Come on, Todger. Don't be such a sour sport. Give us your money we saw you tucking into your wallet earlier, and we'll call it even."

"I-I can't! That's my money for the bus home!"

"Aww, poor baby Todger. You got legs, don't you?"

"Leave him alone!" Theodore shouts, stopping only a few feet away now.

"Lookie, Sammy! It's _Theo-dorable_."

"Just… let him go." His voice grows soft and unsure, still feeling the intimidation of his school bullies hanging in the air like static.

"You gonna take his place, Theo-dork?"

"Here." Theodore rummages through his pockets and pulls out the rest of his money for lunch this week. "Take mine."

Sammy, smirking, releases Roger and exchanges satisfied glances with Turner. "Who knew you were loaded?"

"Thank you." Turner snatches up the money and pockets it swiftly. "Now get lost, Theodumb. We still have to teach Todger here a lesson in respect."

"He gave you his money!" Lindy shouts, now standing next to Theodore. "So get lost!"

"Aww, Ragland's brought his girlfriend to fight his fights. Guess it's just as well. I never actually considered you a girl, Bolt."

Lindy's face turns dark red in embarrassment, and she slings her backpack around, rummages through it, and produces a small box. "You two cronies better get lost, or I'm going to make you regret it."

"Ooh," Sammy taunts, "Whatcha gonna do, Molty-Bolty? Gonna make us piss our pants?"

Theodore frowns, wondering what could be inside the box. Something magic? "Lindy-"

"Hush, Theodore." Lindy straightens her shoulders. "That's right, Sammy. You're going to pee yourself so hard you'll be sloshing in your shoes for a month."

"That's a disgusting image," Theodore mutters.

"Oh yeah?" Turner crosses his arms. "I'd like to see you tr-"

Lindy thrusts open the box and tosses its contents over the bullies. Pasty, translucent figures in white, jagged cloaks with skulls for faces and claws for hands tore out of the box, screeching in high pitch tones, extending their talons and ripping at their targets. The claws move directly through the boys, not actually making any gruesome injuries, before disappearing in a puff of mist.

"GHOSTS!" Turner shouts.

"She's a bloody demon!" yells Sammy.

"You boys want another go!?" Lindy shouts, waving the box at them. The two shake their heads, cowering in front of her. "GOOD! Come on,Theodore! Roger, you're coming with us, too!"

"I-I am?" Roger gapes, eyes wide, looking to Lindy as if she might really be some kind of evil spirit.

"I wouldn't argue with her, mate," Theodore says passively, offering a hand out to help him up to his feet. Roger nods, takes his hand and follows him as they begin to walk away from the building, toward the street.

"Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I'll send more of these frightful buggers after you." Lindy nods her head once, solidifying her threat before she tucks the box back in her bag and scampers off to catch up to the boys.

"What is that box?" Roger asks in wonder to Theodore.

"It's something from that joke shop, isn't it, Lindy?" Theodore turns and raises an eyebrow to his friend.

"It's called a Demon Box. They're not _really_ demons," she insists at her friend's disapproving scowl and the frightened glint in Roger's eyes. "It's a prank. Something to shrivel up their willies."

Theodore isn't convinced. "You've just shown them magic, Lindy. What if they go off and tell someone?"

"Oh please. No one will believe them."

"Excuse me!" Roger shouts, startling the pair. "What the heck did I just see? Are you really a demon?" He reaches over and pokes Lindy in the shoulder, then cowers behind Theodore, who rolls his eyes.

Lindy smirks, puffing out her cheeks and making a silly face. "Yes! I'm a demon! Booga booga!"

"Ahhh!"

"Lindy, that's hardly nice." Theodore turns around and attempts his best smile to Roger, but it must not be that convincing because Roger looks petrified. "Look, it was a trick. That's all."

"But how?"

"Do you think we'll have to obliviate his memories?" asks Lindy in an amused tone.

"We're not old enough to do an advanced spell like -oh. You were joking." Theodore blushes, turning his attention back to the boy. "You can't tell anyone about what you saw."

"So… you're human?"

"Yes."

"You used the word 'magic.' Are you saying that kind of stuff exists?"

"Lindy's an amateur magician."

Roger tilts his head, looking to the girl. "Really?"

"Yup." She pats Theodore's shoulder, whispering under her breath, "Good save." Then, loud enough so Roger can hear, "My dad is a magician, too."

"Wicked! -So, why can't I tell anyone?"

"Er…" Theodore thinks quickly. "Lindy's dad owes some people some money for a few shows he did a while back. If anyone finds out, some mafia men are gonna come and break his legs."

"Wow. So you're, like, deep web famous, huh?"

"Deep web?" Lindy and Theodore ask together.

"Yeah! -This is really cool. I guess I should thank you two for saving my bum back there." Roger smiles at Lindy especially, a glow about his face. Theodore isn't sure why Roger is looking at Lindy in such a way -does she have something on her face? He turns, eyeing her up and down, but doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. "Could I… pal around with you guys in school? I won't be any trouble. Really. I just…" Roger rubs the back of his head. "I don't have a lot of friends."

"Or any, really."

"Theodore!" Lindy elbows him in the side. She takes pity on the shorter, slighter boy and says, "Consider us your Golden Trio!"

"My what?"

"Hoozah!"

* * *

From that day on, Theodore and his friends are no longer the targets of any bullies. He sparks a relatively decent friendship with Roger, learning about muggle customs and phrases. Being introduced to Star Wars is the highlight of his Christmas vacation.

Lindy and Theodore decide amongst themselves not to tell their parents about Roger's slight introduction to the magical world. He doesn't know enough to do anyone any harm, and they don't want him to have to undergo a memory modification. It's nice, having someone know their secrets. Or, at least, a small portion of them. Any time there's something they can't explain, they chalk it up to 'magician's secrets,' which seems to be good enough for Roger.

Today, Theodore stands with a small envelope in his hands, staring at the back of his parents' heads as they pour over their medical research. His father has, recently, obtained a job at a muggle hospital, while his mother still treats their magical patients here at the cathedral. They've managed to cure the girl Theodore's age with a combination of muggle medications and medical herbs, freeing up their time to gather more patients. He knows this is most likely his only chance to ask something so bold, and he holds his breath, approaching them.

"Mum? Dad?"

Samuel is the first to raise his head, and he folds his book shut, smiling. "Something on your mind, Theodore?"

"I… um…" Knowing he won't hold brave for long, he shoves the envelope out to his father, hand shaking.

Samuel takes the letter, curious, and pulls out the paper inside. His eyes skim over the words, and a serious expression falls over his face. "I see…"

"Can I go?"

"Theodore…" Samuel hands the card to his wife, sighing.

"Please. I promise to be good. And I'll blend in, I _promise_. I've been studying muggle customs from my friend, Roger-"

"A field trip to Liverpool?" Margaret taps her fingers on top of her book, lost in thought.

"Please…" Theodore can hear the desperation in his own voice, but he doesn't let it deter him from his prize. "Lindy's going. So is Roger. Their parents already signed the permission forms…"

"We've never allowed you so far away." Margaret furrows her brows.

"Believe me, I _know_ ," Theodore snaps.

Samuel stares at his son. "Caution, Theodore. A little less edge in your tone would be appreciated."

"You know what _I'd_ appreciate? Not to be treated like a two-year-old!"

"Is that what you think we're doing?"

"It _is_ what you're doing! I figured me going to school meant I could be _normal_! I want to go to Liverpool with my friends."

"And what if you accidentally shoot off magic in a crowd, Theodore?" Margaret asks, most severe. "What then? A war is going on right now. I know you're too young to understand these things, but it simply isn't _safe_."

"I'm tired of being _safe_! I want to live a little!"

"Theodore!" His father's voice rumbles through the room, louder than the boy has ever remembered it. "Do you think your mother and I don't understand your frustrations? There are parameters larger than what we've explained to you, son. It's just… too risky."

"But-"

"-Our decision is final."

Without thinking, Theodore rips the permission slip out of his father's hand and storms out of the room, shouting, "I hate this family! I hate the both of you! You never let me do anything! I might as well be a pygmy puff! At least then I'd be let out of this house sometimes!" He dashes up the stairs and slams his bedroom door shut. Then he kicks it, just for good measure.

Horas meows from the center of his bed and gives a long stretch.

"They never let me do anything, Horas," he tells the feline. "What do they think I'm going to do? Blow up Liverpool with my mind?" He stares down at the permission slip, tears in his eyes. "I know… I should be thankful. They do so much for me. They put a lot of risk into letting me go to school. But... I want more than this suburban section of London. I want… I want great things." He sighs. "I'm never going to accomplish anything if all I ever see of the world is in a book."

He sets the permission slip down at his desk and reaches for a pen from his bookbag.

"Don't tell them, okay? But I have to do this."

* * *

 **Please remember, reviews make me giddy inside. :)**  
 **~A.**


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